


On Ruby Wings

by Iceshard1011



Series: Ruby Wings [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (forced) Shapeshifting, Arguing, Fainting, Gen, I'm Bad At Summaries, Insecure Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Loss of Control, Minor Violence, Self-Doubt, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Threats of Violence, and tagging, panicking (but no panic attacks)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25965277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iceshard1011/pseuds/Iceshard1011
Summary: Deceit held up his hands. "Don't... move. Don't freak out."Roman, frankly, had no idea what he was talking about.Then he looked down and saw the huge dragon talons.Roman, understandably, freaked out.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Deceit & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton
Series: Ruby Wings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884613
Comments: 12
Kudos: 90





	On Ruby Wings

**Author's Note:**

> (quick note; i'm australian, so try to forgive any slightly misspelled words or s's instead of z's)

A vein of purple lit up the dark sky. It was accompanied by a series of thunderous booms that shook the landscape. The trees of the surrounding forest were bent to breaking point, their thick trunks groaning in the howling wind. Rain pelted down onto the long grass that waved vigorously underneath the angry storm clouds.

Atop the tallest hill the dark silhouette of a huge castle ominously contrasted with the backdrop behind it as lightning once more shot up the sky. Within the cobblestone walls, the sound of rain hammering against glass panes echoed through the empty halls. On the other side of closed, oak wood doors, a muffled roaring joined the thunderclaps.

A table was upturned, candles and ink pots thrown to the marble floor. A clawed hand swept stacks of books off a desk. Lightning illuminated the perpetrator's hulking form along with the pale face of the second party in the room, watching the tirade with widened eyes.

Wings arched from the aggressor's back. "Once more," they hissed through a gravelly voice, "would you care to tell me what you were doing in _my_ domain?"

The prince of the castle rolled his eyes. "The side of the forest that's a little darker and dense than the rest?" He scoffed. "You don't _have_ a 'domain'. I control the entirety of the Imagination. I'm in charge of it."

The intruder turned on him. She smiled, sharpened teeth peering through thin lips. Then she laughed, throwing her head back and shrieking at the ceiling above.

"Oh," she purred, calming to prowl forward and cup his chin beneath her taloned hand. "What am I still doing here, then?" Roman frowned at her as she pulled away, smirking toothily down at him. “If you control the Imagination and everything within it, why may I ask, am I still here?"

"I can dematerialise you whenever I want," Roman said. The winged witch bit her lip to prevent another burst of laughter.

"Careful, Your Majesty," she said, "you might summon more unwanted problems."

"I can!" Roman protested, stepping forward. The witch’s gaze lazily flickered to where he was gripping the hilt of his sword at his hip. "I can easily banish you."

"Why don't you?" She turned around, her tail sweeping through the shards of a broken mini statue strewn across the floor. "If it was so easy to escape me, do you not think that I would be gone by now?"

"I—" Roman started then paused.

"I'm part of the Imagination, prince," the half-dragon said. She picked up a sheet of paper from a stool, reading off the half-hearted, dot-pointed video ideas. She sneered at it, turning her dark gaze on Creativity. "I am part of you." He blanched as she began to stalk slowly back to him, the list of awful ideas clenched in her talons. Roman's back pressed against the wall behind him. He unsheathed his sword.The dragon witch paused just short of suffocating him. She gazed down at the prince's list, her lip curled in disgust. "Unless." She tore the paper in two, and then again, and again until those nights of staying up late to jot down anything that came to mind was nothing but pathetic scraps on the floor.

"They weren't useless," Roman said, but his protest was weak and the words felt like he was forcing sandpaper out through his throat. "I still have more ideas. I'm not... scared of you." The witch raised one eyebrow, her teeth flashing as she smirked down at the struggling prince.

"I still have more ideas," he was muttering, almost to himself now. "I'm not useless. I know I matter to Thomas." He looked up to glare at her. "I'm not affected by you."

The dragon witch didn't need to say anything this time. Instead, Roman's actions spoke for themselves when in the centre of the room, a black-clothed side rose up, looking intrigued and then mildly disturbed as he took in the mess of the room.

"Oh, darling," the witch crooned, looking back at Creativity. Roman stared, horrified at Deceit who looked back with a faint crease between his eyebrows. "That bad?" He glanced back up to the dragon witch. Her face was twisted with mock sympathy. "Lying that much?" Roman looked at the ground. The witch reached forward to rest a taloned hand on his shoulder. "Maybe you need to learn how to hold your tongue."

Roman's head shot back up, panic flaring in his eyes as he jerked away from her, but she had already snapped her talons together.

A dizzy spell overcame the prince and he staggered, dropping his sword as he reached to clutch his head. Before him, the dragon witch stepped back. "Perhaps a change of perspective would help."

If she said anything else, Roman didn't hear it because he was kneeling to the ground, an unbearably painful headache throbbing through his skull. A keening groan squeezed itself from his throat as he gripped his hair, wanting to pull it from his head. The ripping, hot pain spread from his head down to his back, like swords stabbing into his spine. He thumped to his side, his legs beginning to feel like his bones were popping through his skin. An agonised scream erupted from his mouth, tearing up through his throat like shards of glass. His lungs and chest started to burn as if they’d been lit aflame. He coughed like he'd inhaled smoke and whimpered, curling in on himself.

A pair of dress shoes might have been in front of him at this point, and maybe someone was speaking, but all Roman could do was squeeze his eyes shut and shudder as his whole body reverberated with pain.

Roman wasn't sure if it all had stopped or he'd just blacked out, but when he dared open his eyes, he wasn't in the castle's room anymore. In fact — where _was_ he?

Outside. That much was clear, given the beaming medallion of a sun in the sky, shining down onto the soaked landscape below. The only remnants of the vicious storm was the dripping leaves of trees and the dew saturating the grass. Had Roman been out for an entire night? Or had it been day the entire time, masked by the dark thunderclouds and the storm had only cleared when the dragon witch had left?

Roman was lying among scattered pieces of rock. Rubble? It looked like the same material the walls were made of. Why would the castle be crumbling?

He lifted his head, in the process finding that it felt uncomfortably heavy and unbalanced, and twisted around to stare in horror at his half destroyed castle. The west-end tower looked completely obliterated, like a giant had stomped on it.

_That's where I was,_ Roman realised with a jolt of horror. What had _happened?_ Did the witch do this? It was doubtful. Had she left? After Deceit had risen up—

_Deceit!_ Was he alright? He'd been in that section of the castle as well. He'd arrived when... Roman had started lying to the witch's face. God, if he was hurt and it was all Roman's fault—

He tried to stand but found it difficult — he was too top heavy and his legs were too weak and his back felt like he was wearing a bag full of boulders—

He toppled onto his side. An undignified yelp made Roman's head twist around. A few lumps of stone rubble away, Deceit was stumbling back over rolling rocks, cursing under his breath, but— something was very wrong.

He was... tiny, for one thing. Deceit had never seemed very tall to Roman, but now he was the size of a _kitten!_ His proportions were all still in order, it just looked like he'd _shrunk._

Roman moved to stand again, wanting to help, but he still felt weirdly unwieldy and out of place. His movement, however, made Deceit look up. The scaleless side of his face paled and he stood very still as he gazed up at Roman.

"Roman," Deceit said slowly. "Are you still... uh. All... there?"

Roman frowned. _What's he going on about?_ He opened his mouth to ask but only a low, guttural growl rumbled out. He froze. _What?_

Deceit held up his hands. "Don't... move. Don't freak out."

Roman, frankly, had no idea what he was talking about.

Then he looked down and saw the huge dragon talons.

Roman, understandably, freaked out.

He lunged to his feet and teetered to the side with what should have been a yelp but sounded more like a giant cat's screech. Unbalanced as he was, when those talons backed up with him, he shrieked and made to lunge for the castle. He collided with it much quicker than he had expected, given it should have been a good distance away because it was so small—

More chunks of the building tumbled to the ground, rolling down the hill. The castle was small, too! Like Deceit! Except it wasn’t small and neither was Deceit and he was just big and TALONED AND—

"Roman!" He and his thoughts screeched to a halt. He looked down to see Deceit standing from the ground, kicking away rocks. He dusted down his dirtied clothes, scowling.

"I could have sworn that I told you not to panic," Deceit hissed, glaring up at him. Roman stared back, feeling successfully ridiculed. "And what did you just do?"

Roman bared his teeth (and it felt weirdly natural). That was hardly fair. Roman didn't see Deceit cursed as a dragon! Roman would like to see that happen to him as he tried not to freak out.

"Don't growl at me," Deceit snapped, then caught himself. He took a literal step back and blew out a long breath through slightly parted lips. "Okay. Alright." He looked up at Roman, his mismatched eyes narrowed. "We can shape shift," he said after a moment. "Can you switch back to normal?"

Roman blinked, almost ashamed to admit that it had taken him a moment to realise that Deceit was trying to help. Frankly too scared to move lest he somehow crush the other side underneath a huge talon, Roman closed his eyes and concentrated. Normally, shifting wouldn't require any concentration at all; a simple thought or willful hand wave could change his appearance.

Now, however, even as he focused on his usual appearance, picturing it in his brain and willing with all his might to change, he felt no different.

When he opened his eyes, he found he didn't _look_ any different either.

His shoulders slouched— well, he _thought_ they did, but instead he felt his back shift weirdly. Glancing back, he eyed the ruby-coloured wings that had drooped to the ground. He looked helplessly at Deceit.

The green-scaled side crossed his arms, brow furrowing further. For a moment, Roman almost thought he was non-verbally accusing Roman of not trying hard enough before he realised Deceit was just deep in thought once again.

"I couldn't sink out before," Deceit said. Roman blinked. "Why?"

_Because I don't have control of the Imagination anymore,_ Roman thought glumly. He moved uneasily away from the wall of the half-destroyed castle and edged carefully over to Deceit, picking his way through the scattered lumps of stone. He crouched awkwardly in front of the other side, staring at him pleadingly. Deceit's hard eyes studied the prince's scaled, elongated snout.

"Your room leads into the Imagination, correct?" Deceit asked. Roman dipped his head in the best nod he could manage. "That means the Imagination leads _out_ into your room." Roman nodded again. "So?" Deceit prompted. Roman frowned, confused. Deceit sighed. "The exit door would be... where?"

_Oh!_ Roman perked up. He strode forward, passing Deceit to lead the way, but an abrupt tug on his back leg forced him to a stop. He glanced back and stared at the heavyset chain clamped to his back ankle. The linked metal trailed back to the base of the castle where it was buried into the stone ground of the castle courtyard. Circling back, Roman peered down at the chain and gave it an experimental tug. It clanked heavily but didn't come loose. He pulled it again, harder this time. The ground barely shifted, much less unearthed the entirety of the chain.

Deceit appeared at his feet, looking at the chain like it had personally offended him. He shared a glance with Roman, who vigorously yanked at the chain and looked down at him like _what now?_ when nothing new happened.

Deceit nudged a shoed toe at the solid ground. Roman, mirroring, clawed experimentally at the set stone surrounding the buried chain. His talons scrapped roughly against the rock, ringing like nails on chalk, and he immediately stopped with a shudder. Deceit, grimacing from the sound, pressed a gloved hand to the side of his head.

Roman felt uneasy at his considering look when their gazes locked once again.

"Dragons can breathe fire, can they not?" Deceit said. Roman's stomach twisted. He only _looked_ like a dragon. That didn't mean he knew how to function like one — nor did he want to learn! He _wasn't_ a dragon! He didn't want to _be_ a—

"Alright," Deceit said. "We won't try melting the chain." Roman wondered if his thoughts were so transparent that even as a dragon — wasn't a dragon! — Deceit was able to read his expressions.

Deceit heaved a quiet sigh. "Where's the door to your room?"

Roman blanched. He wasn't going to leave him here, was he? Deceit's eyebrows twitched upwards, framing his unimpressed and slightly annoyed expression. Roman thought that the half-snake definitely looked as if he could read his mind.

"I'm going to get the others," said Deceit. "I have little to no idea about what to do." It looked like it physically hurt when he added reluctantly, "They can probably... help."

Roman sat down, glaring at the chain linked around his ankle. Deceit crossed his arms, waiting for him to quit his sulking.

Finally, Roman growled and moved his gaze to Deceit. He nodded to the forest beyond them. Deceit followed his gaze.

"The forest?" Roman nodded. "Where in the forest?" Roman paused before lifting a talon and tentatively nudging Deceit to turn around, then pulled back and nodded to himself, satisfied. Deceit looked between Roman and the section of the forest he was now facing with a faintly frustrated expression. "Just... keep walking in this direction?" he guessed.

Roman thought about trying to grin but reconsidered when he figured a toothy twist of a smile (or whatever these grotesque jaws could muster) would probably not be encouraging. Deceit's gloved fists clenched. He muttered something under his breath before walking the direction Roman had pointed him in. Roman watched as he started to leave, feeling antsy as he tried to sit still.

_He'll come back,_ he told himself, watching as the trees swallowed the side. _He'll bring the other sides. You won't be stuck like this._

  


  


Janus... wasn't pissed. He was perfectly calm and composed. He wasn't baffled by the existence of the strange, half-dragon lady who had been in the middle of seemingly attacking Roman when Janus had been so overwhelmed with the sensation of lies that it had been impossible to ignore. He wasn't horrified that Thomas' Creativity was now a dragon and apparently stuck that way and chained like an animal. He certainly was not pissed that he was on his way to ask the _light sides_ for help. The light sides, who, with their singular collective brain cell hated his guts and wouldn't listen to a single thing he'd say. He could not already hear Patton's uncomfortable laughter, or see Logan's unamused look, or _feel_ Virgil's glare burning holes into the back of his head.

Janus wasn't a mess of mixed emotions.

Janus was handling the situation perfectly well.

Leaves crunched to his left. His head snapped around to glare at the bush that had rustled, as if daring something to lunge out at him. He— _didn't_ quicken his pace. He wasn’t going to let this forest put him on edge. It was a lump of clustered trees; so what?

Still... He didn't like how dark the forest floor was, how the canopy far above blocked out all the sunlight. How sounds seemed to come from everywhere despite nothing behind visible. Somehow, he had a feeling the forest wasn't always like this.

He carefully stepped over a fallen log, eyeing the rotting wood. He frowned down at the mud that his foot quickly sunk into. A branch snap made him glance over his shoulder, staring into the dark trees.

He _loved_ this.

  


  


Roman was doing his best trying to get used to this new, awful form.

He'd shape shifted before; he knew how to adjust to bodies that weren't his own. This, however, was different. He wasn't _human._ He was long and four-legged and he had a pair of extra limbs sprouting from his back. What he'd give to be able to wear his white tunic and red sash and be able to properly _hold_ his sword in perfectly normal, human-looking hands.

He'd maneuvered his horrible body around into a loose curl, resting his snout on his talons. He stared idly down at the grass beneath him.

Deceit hadn't come back yet. Roman wouldn't have blamed him if he'd found the red door to escape the Imagination and he'd left without a second thought.

_He's been gone for ten minutes,_ Roman reminded himself in a voice that almost sounded like Logan. _Be patient._

Movement in the corner of his eyes made him lift his head around to look to the forest edge. _Deceit?_

Among the treeline, a figure that looked like it could be a side shifted into view, parting from the dark trunks.

Roman lifted his head, warily eyeing the yellow and green armour the newcomer was wearing. Somehow, he immediately knew this wasn't any of Thomas' personality aspects. This... person felt different. Like looking at a cartoon and comparing it to the fabricated toy version. They seemed... off. Fake. Part of a simulation.

It took Roman possibly a little too long to figure that this was probably the dragon witch's doing.

He watched uneasily as the stranger moved from the forest and advanced toward him. Their outfit was honestly hideous; the shades of their jagged, messy armour clashed horrifically. Their face was twisted into an ugly scowl, scars rippling across pale skin, hatred etched into every crease. Another clue that this being was not of Roman’s fantasy world; even his conjured villains had never radiated such an _unfavourable_ aura. Just _looking_ at the advancing knight made Roman feel ugly and sick inside.

The thick chain clanked as Roman stood. He almost wanted to call out to the warrior, maybe to ask what they wanted, but he knew he'd get little passed a growl. God, he couldn’t wait to get his glorious voice back. He swore he'd never stop singing.

He eyed the weird wooden cylinder clutched in the knight's fist.

_That doesn't look friendly,_ he noted.

Roman's concern steadily increased as the knight got closer and didn't show signs of stopping. He watched as the warrior reached the base of his talons and raised his gaze skyward to the dragon's snout. Roman stared back.

The knight raised the cylinder to his mouth. On instinct, Roman ducked, just as a small missile whizzed passed his right ear. He jerked away with a start. _What the—_

Something bounced off the scales of his neck. It didn't even hurt — it felt more like a fly bumping into him — but he studied the knight's weapon and realised with a start that it was a blowpipe. What kind of soldier brought a _blowpipe_ to fight a dragon, Roman didn't know. He didn't exactly love the idea of one of those blow darts getting into one of his eyes, though.

The knight aimed and shot another dart, this one bouncing off the bridge of his snout.

Hastily, Roman scuttled back, glancing around at his options. Still feeling very much human and not at all feeling like the monster he currently was, Roman moved to the castle and without a second thought, clambered awkwardly atop one of the roofs. Curling himself around the intact tower, he frowned down at his attacker, mildly irked rather than feeling in any danger.

But then he looked into the fowl green eyes of the knight and his gut twisted, like it did whenever Thomas' praise would go to one of his friends rather than him, or Patton asked for Logan's help instead of his, or—

He gulped the best he could and leaned up, away from the knight, like he could pull himself from those feelings and thoughts.

But then the knight started forward once more, and Roman realised he wasn't going to be able to just idly avoid the armed stimulant.

After all, he was the dragon guarding an old castle. He knew all too well that facing the heroic knight come to slay him was part of the fantasy the witch had obviously created. ( _Why,_ he still wasn't sure.)

So, sending a mental bird to the dragon witch, he bared his teeth and glared down at the intruder, ready to tear them to pieces.

  


  


When Deceit rose up into the mindscape commons, comically covered in leaves, sticks and possibly a few specks of mud, Logan clearly saw both Patton and Virgil attempt to cover their amusement, even if he knew Patton would deny taking enjoyment seeing Deceit in such a mess.

Logan could admit that the scaled side's predicament was incredibly out-of-character. However, he did not smile like Patton, nor cover up a snort with a coughing fit, like Virgil. He may have possibly cleared his throat of any bubbles of amusement that may have risen up, though.

"Deceit," he addressed, not making a move to stand from the couch. "I presume there is a well-meant reason that you are here?"

"Apart from coming to bother us," Virgil said. Logan doubted Deceit would have allowed the light sides to see him so disheveled unless something arguably important was out of the ordinary. Deceit didn't answer immediately, looking like he was attempting to compose himself before he spoke. He pointedly ignored Virgil's jab.

"Your prince seems to have gotten himself into a... mildly alarming predicament," he said finally, his calculating gaze scanning between the three light sides.

"What's happened?" Patton asked with round eyes.

Virgil, ever the untrusting pessimist, scoffed. "Probably nothing," he said with a roll of his eyes. "He's just trying to mess with us."

Deceit's eyebrows twitched downward an inch. Logan studied the Dark Side thoughtfully. He wasn't smirking self-satisfactorily like he usually was when he arrived, even when being caught red-handed with impersonating one of the others. His fists weren't clenched, but neither were they clasped together like normal. This Deceit was less like the recently exposed Patton impostor being introduced to Thomas for the first time, and more like the frustrated winner of the mock courtroom trial who had just found that they would still be going to the wedding despite his best efforts: annoyed, on edge and maybe a little uncertain. Deceit didn't strike Logan as the type to act inferior for the sake of a trick. Logan frowned.

"What makes you say this?" he asked slowly, ignoring the narrow-eyed look Virgil shot his way.

Deceit opened his mouth, then paused, closing it again.

"He can’t even tell us," Virgil pointed out, glaring at the scaled side.

"Because, of course, it's so easy to explain," Deceit retorted in a voice that should have sounded as smooth as ever, but Logan caught the rough, gravelly undertone that promised patience running thin.

"It’s okay, kiddo," Patton said, smiling at Anxiety.

"Roman is— in trouble," Deceit settled on. "I came to get you for his help."

"Is he okay?" Patton cried.

"Calm down, Patton," Logan said. "Panicking will not aid the situation."

"Oh, please," Virgil growled. He stood from the staircase, reached toward the television and summoned Roman.

Except there was an empty _whoomph_ where Creativity should have risen up. Logan narrowed his eyes, watching Deceit closely. The side notorious for lying didn't look smug or superior, even when he looked over at Virgil as if to check to see if he was now believed. Thomas' anxiety was staring at the empty spot in front of the television, looking uneasy and maybe a little paler than usual.

"Deceit?" Patton was prompting, anxiously wringing his hands together. "Where's Roman?"

"In the Imagination," Deceit said. "Something's wrong with it."

"Okay, well — we'll go there and find him and help him fix it." Patton looked to Logan and Virgil. "Right?"

Virgil didn't reply; he was fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie as he stared at the ground, his head ducked and eyes obscured by his hair.

"That seems optimal," Logan agreed. Patton bounced, momentarily distracted from the idea of Roman being in trouble due to Logan siding with him. "Virgil?" Logan coached carefully. "Are you in agreement with this?"

After a moment, Anxiety looked up, his dark eyes fixing on Deceit under a deeply furrowed brow. Deceit stared evenly back, looking uncharacteristically neutral and maybe a little gentle, like he was expecting and ready for the forthcoming rebuttal.

"Alright," said Virgil. "Let's go."

  


  


Roman tried not to feel squeamish as he knocked the bat-winged knight to the side, sending them flying to crash into the castle walls. They fell to the ground and didn't get up. Roman gulped, gingerly stepping over the bodies littering the courtyard and returned to his position, curled around the castle tower.

After killing the first knight that had attacked him, Roman had felt violently ill. He'd wondered in that moment if dragons could be sick and had quickly got his answer when he'd retreated to the back of the castle to pass up his last meal.

Roman had fought enemies in the Imagination before; he knew everything here was fake and fabricated and didn't hold any real world impact. He'd fought, captured and even killed villains and monsters in the Imagination but every time he had been himself — his normal self: just a regular-looking prince armed with his sword and maybe a plan or two. He'd never been terribly advantaged, and he’d liked that. It added to the thrill and challenge and adventure.

He'd also never been... the bad guy.

Roman highly doubted the dragon witch was thoughtful enough to create detailed backstories for these countless, strange knights she kept sending, so he wasn’t too worried about widowing or orphaning some poor conjured woman or child.

But he knew very well the situation she had cursed him into: rarely, if ever, were the castle-guarding dragons the sympathetic heroes who deserved and earned the happy endings. Even in his own worlds, that had never been a story aspect. Dragons symbolised greed and anger and evil.

The sun posted high in its blue abyss bore down on him, its warm rays heating his scales like cruel reminders. Roman shook his head as it burned onto his sensitive ear. He flickered it (and was thoroughly disturbed by the action of being able to move things like his ears) and then frowned at the small droplets of blood that splattered from the thin cut the first knight’s blow dart had inflicted. It stung, but no more than a paper cut.

His movement made him glance down at his shadow. His eyes traced the huge shape, running along the stretch of his snout, the curves of his horns, the lump of his folded wings.

Roman _looked_ like a monster as much as he felt like one.

He closed his eyes, like ignoring the signs meant he could deny the awful truth.

The sound of clanking armour had become a sound Roman was too familiar with, so he knew he wasn’t mistaken when he heard the sound of another knight marching in his direction, ready to take on the big, bad, murderous dragon terrorising the kingdom.

He heaved a sigh and opened his eyes. He watched the knight tramp out from the treeline. This one was bigger than the others; more heavyset. Its armour was thicker, stronger. Roman could tell just by looking at it.

Looking at this knight didn’t make him feel sick or scared or upset like the other previous challengers had.

This one made him feel weak. Like his bones were brittle. Like he couldn’t hold his own weight. It made him feel strengthless. Fragile. Helpless.

This knight thought it could get to him like that? Like something as magnificent and terrifying and mighty as a dragon would be weak in front of a puny, insignificant _human?_

The knight made him feel weak.

And that made him angry.

  


  


Patton wasn't prone to anger. Even when upset or stressed or broken or in disagreement with the others, anger was never an emotion he indulged in. He didn't like how it roiled in his stomach and how it would boil out to scandal anyone in the vicinity.

Even so, Morality was struggling.

He didn't like this forest; how dark it was even if, according to Deceit, it was supposed to be daytime. How it felt like he was being watched from all angles. How bushes rustled and the tree trunks groaned. How the ground turned to slog at parts, like the forest had fused with a swamp.

He didn't like how unsettled Logan looked, like he felt the same way about their surroundings. It wasn't obvious, of course, but Patton noticed how he kept readjusting his tie despite not needing to worry about it being out of place. How his sharp eyes continued to subtly scan the trees, like he was searching for something.

He didn't like how distressed Virgil was. Patton knew he was anxious all the time, even if only mildly, but the signs that he was more aggravated than usual were there; the constant tugging on his sleeves, the darting of his eyes, the way he was jittery and hyper alert.

Patton supposed he was possibly glad about their Anxiety was still tame enough to be able to grumble and complain. He didn't like how most of the jabs were at Deceit, though. How he was muttering that it was Deceit's fault, or the way Deceit's patience was clearly starting to run dry, or how they were still in this forest and hadn't gotten out yet, or how they were here in the first place because Roman was in trouble but they didn't even know how because Deceit still hadn't told them anything—

"Patton?"

Morality looked up and ceased to wring his hands, realising he'd been fidgeting. Logan ducked his head to meet his eyes.

"Are you alright?"

Patton nodded, smiling. "Of course I am!" he chirped brightly. Logan held his gaze. "I'll be... even better as soon as we get out of this forest," he added, a little more honestly. Logan, sensing the truth in his voice, nodded once and straightened.

"I'm in agreement,” he said. "How much further do you estimate, Deceit?"

Ahead, Deceit glanced back. His eyebrows twitched.

"Surely not too far," Patton said.

"Do you even know where we're going?" Virgil muttered.

"It wasn't hard to find the exit door," Deceit responded sharply. "Similarly, it won't be hard to find the edge of the forest."

"If you’re not lying about that then why are we taking so long?" Virgil snapped back.

"If you would like to lead the way, it would be my absolute pleasure to appoint you as leader," Deceit hissed scathingly. "Where to, O' Great One?"

"Awe, come on, guys," Patton started.

"You're the one who's already supposedly been this direction," Virgil growled. "You should know the way."

"I do," Deceit said.

"Let's not fight—" Patton reached half-heartedly for Virgil.

"How do we know you haven't been leading us in circles?" Virgil demanded, prowling forward. "Where's the proof that we can trust you?"

"Guys—" Patton tried.

"It would be ideal if we could remained focused on the—"

"Proof?" Deceit cut Logan off, turning on Virgil. "What—"

A low rumble shook the ground as it thundered through the forest.

The following moments of silence were tense and completely void of noise. No one breathed. The distant sound of crashing, like a building collapsing made the group look ahead, like they would be able to see through the trees to the source of the noise.

"What was that?" Patton whispered, hushed.

Deceit straightened, looking at them almost smugly. "Proof," he said, turning and advancing with new purpose.

"Why are we going towards the scary noise?" Patton asked. He looked between Logan and Virgil, wondering if they were going to follow Deceit.

"You want out of the forest?" Deceit said up ahead. Hesitantly, Patton shuffled after him. "Surely a dragon and a collapsing castle would not be stationed among the dense trees of a forest."

Virgil's eyes narrowed. "Why would there be a dragon?"

"Why would the castle be collapsing?" Logan gripped the edge of his glasses, like he'd be able to activate the ability to see the answer.

Patton found it strange how Deceit first looked away, his face beginning to close off before he froze and glanced back at Logan, an almost alarmed light illuminating in his eyes. It was like he was reacting to the two different questions separately.

"I..." Deceit frowned at the ground before picking up his pace, almost rushing off.

"Hey-!" Virgil yelped, caught off guard. The three of them hurried after the liar.

Deceit pushed past a pair of bushes and sunlight broke through behind him. Patton squinted against it as he emerged — finally! — from the trees. The bright light shot into his skull, making his head ache and he realised how truly dark and gloomy it had been within the forest. As his eyes slowly adjusted and his vision cleared, he blinked at the beautiful landscape before him. The grass was so green! And the kills were so big and round! And the big, crumbling stone castle looked like old Celtic ruins and the peaceful, gorgeous scene was only wrecked by the huge, red dragon snarling and storming around the courtyard.

Wait.

Patton yelped as the dragon's lashing tail smashed into the side of the castle walls. They caved like the impact was equivalent to a wave crashing into a sand pile. Patton ducked behind Logan, peering over his shoulder.

"That's not Roman," Virgil said. Patton followed his gaze to the armed person who was insane enough to be fighting the dragon.

_Virgil's right,_ he realised. They were too heavyset, too broad-shouldered. Even the way he moved wasn't as fast nor graceful as seeing Roman in action. Plus, Roman used a sword, not a big hammer.

Logan stepped forward, looking closely at something in the distant castle’s direction. "The... bodies," he ventured haltingly, "what are they— what's their purpose?"

"What?" Patton cried. Then he saw it, too.

The entire field beside the castle was littered with limp bodies. The grass beneath them was an awful red-brown. Patton quickly averted his gaze, unashamed to be hiding his face like a three-year-old would during a scary movie.

"If—"

"He's not there," Logan said before Virgil could even begin to choke out a weak threat for Deceit. They all looked at him. "Roman doesn't wear armour."

"He doesn't?" Patton asked.

"'Ruins his aesthetic'," Virgil muttered without bite.

"Yes." Logan sighed. “So that suggests that Roman is not here."

"He's here," Deceit said, gaze fixed on the battle ahead of them. "He's likely the biggest mobile thing in a three square mile radius."

A beat of silence.

"By the situation being complicated," Virgil said slowly, "you meant to say that Thomas' creativity is now a giant... raging... dragon."

Three pairs of eyes locked onto Deceit. The scaled side looked between them, oddly sheepishly.

"No..?" he tried.

A blur of purple smashed into Deceit, knocking him to the grass.

"What did you DO?" Virgil roared, his fists twisting into Deceit's collar.

"Virgil!" Patton yelped in alarm.

Anxiety shook the other side, none-too-gently. "TALK!"

"Virgil," Logan interjected. "I doubt Deceit has the power to morph other sides this... drastically." Virgil scowled at him, inhaling to argue. "And if he does, do you really believe that he would morph Roman, leave, then come back with us — all for some pointless mockery?"

Virgil glared down at Deceit. "What were you planning?" he demanded.

"My _plan_ was to get _your_ help!" Deceit snapped back.

"Guys, don't fight!" Patton cried, hurrying forward. He put his hand on Virgil's shoulder and the anxious side stilled. He slowly eased off Deceit but he didn’t let up his fierce stare.

"Ah."

The four sides whirled around. From the trees stalked a tall woman. She wasn't a side; she had to have been a part of the Imagination. "The three perfect, loyal, little light sides." Her hideous black eyes scanned them. Patton's grip on Virgil's shoulder tightened. "So." From her back, a pair of huge leathery wings unfurled, sketching out. They blocked out the sun, shadowing the huddled group and their pale faces.

"Who's getting disemboweled first?"

  


  


This knight was so _stupid!_ It wasn't stabby, like a lot of the others, and it wasn't fast or even really scared. It stood in the same spot and just _let_ the dragon attack it.

But he still couldn't land a hit. His swipes were knocked to the side. His tail tip was squished. His snout was bruised. He ran his tongue over the empty slot where one of his teeth had been bashed out. It was that _stupid_ hammer! Blood trailed from his gum.

He snarled and took another snap at the insufferable knight, and this time, it did something he didn't expect: it dodged.

For a moment, the dragon was almost baffled.

Then the hammer smashed into his temple. He didn't even roar. A crumpled, broken whimper pressed past his teeth as he staggered to the side. Stars danced in his unison, blacking around the edges.

When his eyesight cleared, he was at ground level. _Stupid knight._

He blinked. At the treeline were more knights. He hadn't even had a chance to eat this one!

He froze with a start. With them...

_Dragon Witch!_

Roman sprang up with a startled yelp.

The others! What were they doing here? That witch had better stay away from them or he'd—

The hammer came back down on his head. Apparently by 'springing up' he'd only manage to lift his head an inch off the ground.

He snorted dirt from his nose and made to get up but... he couldn't move. His body felt so _heavy..._

He groaned and tried to at least tilt his head. Hammer Knight was peering at him. Roman tried to bare his teeth but his lip only barely twitched. He was almost glad, anyway; it was too animalistic of a gesture. He wasn't ready to address how he'd lost himself for a time fighting this knight. He needed to be changed back, and soon.

At the trees, the Dragon Witch reached forward. She didn't move much more, but Patton clutched his head and fell to his knees with a pained cry.

_No!_ Roman jerked against the ground, trying _oh so hard_ to get up. _Stand up! MOVE, stupid, useless legs!_ At the base of his head, Hammer Knight raised his weapon high above his head. Roman eyed it, feeling his irregularly large heart pounding against the Earth.

This was the part where the knight won. Where the mighty hero slayed the evil dragon and returned to his home a hero. Where he remained a hero for only a short time before attention moved on, and he was overtaken with envy and greed and fear and the pressure to remain a strong, valiant prince would slowly crush him like his skull threatening to implode—

The hammer fell just short of his head.

Roman blinked as Hammer Knight fell after it.

Just behind where the knight had previously been standing, Deceit glared at him.

"Do you think you just lie around all day?" Deceit said, sounding a little unhinged. It didn't help that he looked a little insane, too. His hat was gone, allowing the mess of his hair to display. His wide, mismatched eyes scanned constantly across Roman's snout, like he couldn't decide where to look. He looked awful, to be frank. Roman kind of wanted to tell him, but at the same time he was glad he couldn't speak.

"Stand up!" Deceit hissed. Roman frowned at him and raised his wing as far as he could to demonstrate that _he couldn't move—_

Except the wing shot straight up into the air. Both Roman and Deceit froze, the former from shock, the latter possibly trying to decipher what that translated to from Dragon.

_"Deceit!"_

At the edge of the forest, the Dragon Witch had pinned Virgil to the ground. Logan was leaning against a nearby tree trunk, looking dazed. Patton was desperately patting the grass as he searched for his missing, cracked glasses.

Roman took one look at this stupid manifestation torturing his friends, and he was on his feet.

Beside him, Deceit staggered to the side. Roman reared back, flared his wings, lashed his tail, and roared. It felt strange, he had to admit — like yelling, but so much more powerful.

But at that moment, it didn't really matter what it felt like.

The Dragon Witch had momentarily pulled from Virgil, her wide, black eyes fixed on him.

Virgil coughed and rubbed at his bruised neck with a grimace.

Roman filled with red, hot anger. How dare she? Claim to be stronger than him? Lure the others into this mess? Attack his _family?_

It took Roman a moment to realise it was more than just anger, and his chest was _actually_ warm, and it was spreading through to his throat.

He was glad the Light Side had worked it out before him; they'd already scrambled well out of the way seconds before a plume of fire billowed from Roman's open jaws to engulf the shocked Dragon Witch.

Roman leaned back and puffed out his chest proudly.

A squeaked, "Woah," made him look down. At his talons, Patton gaped up at him, awed.

Crouching carefully, Roman lowered his head as much as he could in order to look Morality in the eyes. Patton chuckled unevenly, but he reached forward and settled his hands on either side of Roman's still-too-big snout.

"Well, kiddo," he said. His smile was a strange mix between uneasy and sympathetic. "You've certainly had a bit of a glow-up since we last saw you."

Roman meant for his snort to only be gentle, but the gush of air that exploded from his nose still blew Patton's hair back and made him blink, frazzled. Oops. _Sorry, Padre._

Still, the self-proclaimed father of the group laughed, for real this time, and patted the side of Roman's snout good-naturedly. God, how Roman wanted to be small enough for Patton to comfortably pat his back or ruffle his hair.

"Ideally, he won't have that 'glow up' much longer." Logan stepped up beside Patton. Behind his glasses, his eyes were narrowed and studying Roman, like he was scrutinizing every scale. Roman, feeling oddly ashamed, looked at the ground.

"Anyone got any bright ideas?" Roman's heart leapt. Virgil padded over to Patton and Logan his dark eyes trained cautiously on Roman and his joy was almost immediately squashed. He really wished everyone could stop being scared of him. He looked down at his talons.

_Well,_ he supposed dejectedly. _I guess I can't blame them._

A stone bonked him on the snout. Wrinkling it to rid the strange stinging itch, he looked back up.

"Try and cheer up, Princey," Virgil said, a second pebble already in his hand as he tossed it back and forth. "We'll work out how to get you back to your fabulous self in no time." That was probably when Roman found that dragons were capable of smiles.

A sudden shriek made them look back. The Dragon Witch was standing, shaking herself. Her clothes were in tatters, and parts of her skin may have been burnt. She looked more pissed than hurt, though.

"Uh," squeaked Patton. "Light her on fire!" he called up to Roman.

"She was just swallowed with flames," Deceit pointed out, "and of course, that did so much damage."

"Sarcasm is not going to help us," Virgil snapped.

"How many more must die while you doubt yourself, Roman?" the witch called, gesturing to the field of dead knights. Roman didn't follow her gaze, but his stomach clenched tightly.

"Roman." Hesitantly, he looked down. Logan's gaze was steady. "You've mentioned a 'Dragon Witch' before," he said slowly, like he was explaining the steps to a particularly hard equation. "What is she?"

Roman squinted at him, uncomprehending. _A... dragon... witch?_

"No," Logan said, like he could hear his thoughts. "She's certainly not like us — but she's more than just a fabrication of the Imagination. She's strong enough not to be affected by us, by you..." His eyes narrowed. "So, what is she?"

Roman had a feeling Logan already knew, and he was just trying to coax the answer from Roman.

But why? For one, he couldn’t speak.

"And how would you beat her?" Logan prompted, ignoring the baffled looks the others were giving him. Roman was equally as bewildered, albeit for a different reason.

_Beat?_ he thought. _How long does he think I've been trying to beat_ that?

The witch was stalking for them, her face twisted with fury and tail lashing. He had to protect the others from her. But how? If a column of fire couldn’t get rid of her then what—?

The Dragon Witch's first fireball exploded against him.

  


  


Virgil's heart was in his throat as Roman crashed thunderously to the ground.

True panic began to settle in when he didn’t get back up.

So when he was knocked to the ground to dodge another fireball, Virgil hardly felt the breath that whooshed out of his lungs. He gripped a handful of his shirt, trying to ground himself in order to get his breathing under control.

When he could manage a full breath, he allowed himself to focus on his surroundings. Faintly, his brain registered the pair of dress shoes in front of him. Janus glanced down at him.

"Are you going to laze around, too?" he demanded. A distant cry pulled his attention forward again. He reached out and twisted his arm. Virgil followed the direction of his gesture. His eyes widened when he saw the Dragon Witch staggering away from Logan. She was covering her own mouth, looking alarmed and that much more angry.

"You can control her?" Virgil stood, a little shakily.

"Barely," Janus said through gritted teeth.

"I thought she wasn’t like us," Virgil said.

Janus' breath strained and he couldn't answer before the Dragon Witch ripped her hand from her mouth and he collapsed to his hands and knees with a gasp. Virgil crouched beside him, putting his hand on Janus' shoulder.

"I think," Janus said, swallowing as he recovered from the shock of having his Silencing bested, "that from the way Logan was talking... she's a part of Roman."

"What?" Alarm spiked through Virgil’s veins. "A _part_ of him? How?"

Janus shook his head, unable to answer Virgil stood, watching as the witch knocked Patton to the side with a snarl.

"You're all _pathetic!"_ she roared. The words echoed as Virgil racked his brain for a solution. _Loyal, little Light Sides._ They had nothing to fight her with. _While you doubt yourself..._ With her in control of the Imagination, they couldn't summon anything or sink out — not that Virgil would even consider abandoning the others. _All pathetic..._

Virgil swallowed an anxious breath. _Fight or flight._ He darted around Janus and scooped up a sword from a fallen knight.

Before the Dragon Witch could pounce on a dazed Patton, a long silver blade sliced into one of her wings.

She didn't scream, or cry out in pain, or collapse, or really any of the things Virgil was hoping for. But her attention was drawn from Patton as she slowly turned to face Virgil. That was good enough. He pointed the sword at her challengingly and hoped that it wasn’t obvious that he had no idea how to wield it. She lunged at him, her taloned hands outstretched. Virgil ducked but the witch’s tail whipped around, smacking him in the face. As his vision blurred with involuntary tears. He felt his grip on the sword hilt disappear rather abruptly. He threw his arms up instinctively, but it was still a shock when white hot pain flared up along his forearms.

He stumbled back, losing his balance and falling with a graceless _thud._

The Dragon Witch pounced after him. She curled her fist into his hair, keeping his head back as she trailed with jawline with a precariously sharp talon.

"How about I pull your teeth out, one by one?" she hissed.

_No._

Virgil frowned. He hadn't thought that, had he? The witch had paused, like she'd heard it too. Virgil took this time to kick her as hard as he could in the stomach. She reared off of him with a cough. As Virgil darted to his feet, movement made him turn to watch as Roman rose to his full height, glowering down at the witch.

_You will not hurt them._ He stalked forward. Behind him, the giant chain links clamped to his back ankle clanked as it reached it full length. With a loud creak and then a bang, the chain snapped off his leg.

Snarling, the Dragon Witch conjured a fireball and launched it at the dragon.

Virgil's cry of fear died in this throat when Roman simply lifted his chin. The orb of flames crashed into his neck, then fizzled and dissipated. His scales weren't burnt. He hadn't even winced.

_You are not as strong as us._ The Dragon Witch took an anxious step backwards as Roman persisted. _As me._

"You're WEAK!" the witch shrieked, flaring her wings.

A growl rumbled from Roman's throat. _I am Thomas' Creativity. I am inventive and adventurous and as strong as he needs me to be. And that,_ he leaned down, his snout larger than her entire body, and almost smirked, _makes me stronger than you._

With a screech, the witch summoned a long spear. Nonplussed, Roman straightened. Before the witch could attack, he blew out a swirling column of fire that enveloped her with a shriek.

Virgil watched warily but as the cloud of embers and smoke faded, the witch didn't move, like she'd been frozen. Then, slowly, she fell apart. Quite literally. Her body turned grey and began to crumble until she was nothing but a small clump of dust, piled atop the emerald-green grass.

The ground vibrated, and Virgil looked up just as Roman crumpled to the ground.

  


  


_Too bright._

Light beamed against Roman's eyelids. He frowned against it, feeling groggy and tired.

Still, his senses were on high alert, so the moment an image of the Dragon Witch flashed through his mind, his eyes shot open. He moved to sit, but pressure on his shoulders kept him pinned. The only thing keeping him from fighting against the force was the fact that the grip was gentle and decidedly talon-less.

What made him freak out, however, was the moment he realised that he was lying flat on his back; that his shoulders were squared and no longer rounded strangely; that his skin felt weirdly soft and sensitive, and the sensation of clothes pressing against him was almost _uncomfortable._

He blinked, squinting up at the bespectacled face above him.

"Good afternoon," Logan said dryly with a hint of a smile.

Roman tried for a grin. He lifted his head — for how heavy and clumsy he'd felt as a dragon, moving now _should_ have been easier — but his head throbbed painfully and he relaxed again with a grimace. Instead of settling against itchy grass or hard rocks, the back of his head pressed against something smooth and thick, enough to cushion the ground. Roman twisted his neck to glance at it and smiled faintly.

The carefully folded caplet that was serving as a makeshift pillow was not the strangest thing that encompassed Roman, he thought, as he realised his sense of fashion had apparently rapidly depleted along with the dragon scales. He frowned down at the long purple hoodie that looked as if it had been roughly thrown on top of him.

"Forming from dragon to side was not accompanied by clothes, it seems," Logan explained. Heat dusted Roman's cheeks. He unconsciously gripped the sleeve of Virgil's hoodie a little tighter. He looked around and relaxed as, one by one, he spotted his friends. Patton moved to crouch beside Logan, smiling with tired but happy eyes. Virgil remained standing, looking out-of-character without his violet hoodie over his shoulders, but when Roman caught his gaze, he smirked, albeit weakly.

"What did I say?" he said with a shrug. "Normal in no time." Roman grinned back.

Deceit stood awkwardly off to the side. He looked strange, too, without his signature article of clothing, but he hadn’t left yet, and that was enough for Roman.

Closing his eyes and concentrating, Roman waved his hand and felt their surroundings shift. Sinking out, however, did no kindness to his aching head, so when he rose up with the others in the mindscape commons, all properly clothed once again, he made an unsteady bee-line for the couch.

He collapsed into it and ran a hand over his tired eyes, and a hand ran through his hair. He blinked lazily over at Patton.

"Someone's exhausted," Morality said with a smile. Roman hummed in response. Feeling as if he needed to double check he was back, in the mindscape, with everyone, Roman quickly scanned the room.

Logan was cleaning the mess of the floor. Roman vaguely wondered where all those leaves and twigs had come from. Virgil was crouched on the staircase, talking to a mildly surprised-looking Deceit. Anxiety's eyes were narrowed, but he wasn't showing any other signs that he was mad, like tense shoulders or clenched fists. He looked embarrassed, if anything, but Roman had no idea why.

They would have questions, Roman knew. When he woke up, they'd want to talk, and he wouldn't be able to dismiss them. He'd have to — Greek gods forbid — open up, because he'd gotten his family hurt and the least he could do for them was to offer an explanation.

But for now, they were okay, and so was he. Feeling it was safe to relax, Roman closed his eyes.

He was out like a light.


End file.
